


Boy, Interrupted

by spiritedziam



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Girl Interrupted AU, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Smut, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7225840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritedziam/pseuds/spiritedziam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry leans over the side of his hospital bed, vomiting up vodka and aspirin. He hears the nurses around him telling him he’s doing a great job and to keep it up and it’s making him feel even worse. They’re all poking and prodding at him, doctors shoving needles into his arm, others grabbing him and strapping him down. Harry has tears rushing down his face, partly because he’s being forced to puke up his suicide attempt and partly because, through the madness, he sees his sister clinging on to his mother. They’re both crying too. He’s torn between wishing he succeeded and wishing he never tried. </p><p>Or the one heavily influenced by the film Girl, Interrupted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

Harry leans over the side of his hospital bed, vomiting up vodka and aspirin. He hears the nurses around him telling him he’s doing a great job and to keep it up and it’s making him feel even worse. They’re all poking and prodding at him, doctors shoving needles into his arm, others grabbing him and strapping him down. Harry has tears rushing down his face, partly because he’s being forced to puke up his suicide attempt and partly because, through the madness, he sees his sister clinging on to his mother. They’re both crying too. He’s torn between wishing he succeeded and wishing he never tried.

 

The next thing Harry knows, he’s being nudged awake by two police officers.

“Kid, wake up,” he hears. His whole body is aching, his throat burning. There’s a vile aftertaste in his mouth that shocks memories into his system. He blinks his heavy lidded eyes open. He goes to rub the sandpaper feeling out of them but he can’t lift his arms. Harry looks down and sees that he’s bound to the bed. He almost laughs at how ridiculous the situation is. He’s strapped down to a hospital bed, IV and everything, scene completed by the policemen looking condescendingly down at him.

“What is this?” Harry says. He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“You tried to kill yourself; you’re a danger to yourself and people around you so you’re strapped down. That’s what happens,” cop #1 says. Harry doesn’t bother asking for their names or looking for nametags, it’s clear they don’t care so why should he.

“We’re here to ask you a few questions about last night. What’s your name and how old are you,” cop #2 says.

Harry knows that they must already know the answer to that but he complies anyway.

“Harry Styles. I’m 18.”

“Mhm. Last night at approximately 8:30 you attempted suicide by overdose. What did you take? A few aspirin and some alcohol?” cop #2 asks. Anger churns in Harrys stomach. How could they be so nonchalant about this? How dare they? He could be dead right now had his mom not walked in when she did. He wishes he was.

“The entire bottle. I took an entire bottle of aspirin and downed over half a bottle of vodka,” Harry grits out, tugging at his restraints.

“Right. Why would you do that? I know things may seem quite bad but it gets better and all that,” cop #1 says. He takes a seat, leaning back and interlacing his fingers behind his head.

Harry scoffs, “Don’t bother with whatever that was. You don’t care; you’re just doing your job. Thanks for the advice, I’m cured! When can I go home?”

“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours. Why did you do it?” the cop says, losing any trace of the fake smile he had painted on.

“I don’t want to talk about this, I can’t, where’s my mom?” Harry frantically says, tugging more harshly at the straps keeping him trapped here.

“You’re 18 years old, stop scrambling for mommy. Answer my question,” the cop demands. He’s sitting forward now, staring at Harry. More like through him. Harry feels he doesn’t exist as a human being to these men.

He stops his struggling, looks right into cop #1’s eyes and says, “ _Living isn’t for everyone_.”

 

When the police leave, Harry cries. He cries for his mother, his sister, his body and his life. He cries for the pain he’s in and for the pain he’s caused. He cries until his eyes burn even worse than they did before and his head is throbbing. A nurse comes in, knocking softly on the open door.

“Harry? Hi, sweetheart. I’m Lauren, I’m going to be your main nurse, care giver, whatever you wanna call it. How are you feeling?” She must be an angel. Her voice is sweet, melting through Harry’s pain like warm honey and milk.

“I’m okay. I’m thirsty..sore. Do you know where my mum is?” Harry asks. He feels small, insignificant and broken. His whole body is a bruise. He wants to curl up but he can’t move.

“She’s just outside in the waiting room. Your sister is with her, if you’d like I can send them in when I’m done taking your vitals?” Lauren says. She has an easy smile on her face and Harry wonders if he can really trust her or if she’s just doing her job like the police.

“Yes, please. Um..do I have to have these on?” Harry asks, tugging at his arms.

“I’m afraid so but only for a bit longer just so we can see if it would be safe to take them off,” Lauren says. She’s observing his heart rate monitor, writing things down on her clipboard.

“Safe? Do you guys think I’m going to hurt someone?” Harry asks, disbelief in his voice. He couldn’t imagine intentionally harming someone but suddenly who he is as a person is disregarded, stripped down and locked away.

“I’m sorry dear, if I could take them off I would but I’m not permitted to. We just want you to be as safe as possible,” Lauren says.

Harry sighs. “Do you know when I’ll be released?”

“Oh yes, I nearly forgot,” she says, taking a seat beside the bed. It’s a drastic change from the man who was sitting there just before her.

“So the standard hospital stay for these circumstances is 3 days give or take. Now the biggest thing is the plan for what will happen afterward to prevent something like this from happening again and making sure you get the care you need. If you were a minor a mandatory behavioral health center stay would be in order but that’s up to you now since you’re 18. The police spoke to your mother this morning and said that they think it would be best for you to follow that course.”

“What? What do you mean, what is that? A behavioral health center?” Harry asks.

“It’s a type of hospital but they specialize in the more mental aspects of health,” Lauren says, same smile on her face.

“So, a mental hospital? God, what? How could my mum want to put me there?” Harry says. He’s getting frantic again and can feel a knot growing in his throat. He can’t cry anymore, he doesn’t want to.

“I know how it sounds but it’s really one of the best things you can do when you’re feeling this way,” Lauren says. Harry hates feeling pitied.

“Can I see my mum?” Harry says, looking away from the nurse.

“Of course. If you need to talk, I’m here for you. You aren’t alone, we’re here to take care of you.”

Lauren says she’ll go get his mother and make sure to bring him some water.

Shortly after she takes her leave, his mother slowly walks in, Gemma trailing behind her. They look exhausted, sporting dark bags under their red eyes. Harry can tell they’ve been crying and all he wants to do is hug them and hold them but he can’t fucking move.

“Oh, Harry,” his mother says, coming to his side and hugging his limp body. Harry thinks about how last night they were in the same position, his mum crying and holding him.

“Hi mum,” he says. He wishes he could sit up and show them that he’s okay, he probably looks ten times worse than he feels.

“I love you, I love you, I’m so sorry,” his mum is sobbing now and it makes tears that Harry didn’t think he had left spring to his eyes. He can’t bring himself to say anything so he just lets her hold him and cry. When she pulls away, it’s Gemma’s turn. She gives him a hug, tears coming down her own face and tells him she loves him.

“I love you too,” he says.

“Your breath smells like shit,” she says, smiling and wiping her face. Harry laughs for the first time in what feels like years. It breaks the intense aura of the room, even Anne laughs.

“So the doctors say you should be good to go in about 3 days,” Anne says but Harry can tell there’s more she wants to say.

“Yeah but the nurse said you and the police think it would be best to put me in some loony bin,” Harry says sarcastically.

“Harry, please, I just want you to be safe. I can’t bear to lose you, I just couldn’t do it. Not you too,” she pleads.

“I just want to come home, I don’t want to be here, I want to go home,” he says.

“I just don’t think that’s the best environment for you right now, you need help.”

“Mum, _please_ , I’m not crazy, don’t you trust me?” Harry says, his voice cracking.

“I don’t know at this point, Harry, I’m afraid…I’m afraid,” she says, beautiful face aged ten years from the horrors of the night.

Harry knows how hard it must be for her to admit that she’s scared. Harry’s mother has always been brave. She’s always been so strong for her kids, from her divorce of Harry and Gemma’s dad to the death of their beloved stepdad. Skipping meals so they could eat, picking up extra shifts and extra jobs to barely make rent, making sure they always felt loved, they always had a home. Harry feels selfish.

“If that’s what you want then I’ll go.”


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapters have been short, they'll get longer soon. Thank you for reading!

The next three days, Harry is under constant watch. Nurses help him to the bathroom when they finally remove the restraints. On the third day he’s allowed to shower but there’s a nurse just outside the curtain talking to him throughout it all. The doctor says it’s okay for him to shave his stubbly face and Harry feels a bit more normal with them trusting him with a razor. Seeing himself this closely, he’s taken aback. The boy in the mirror is not him at all. His eyes are dark and hollow, dark circles that he isn’t familiar with force all brightness out. His hair is significantly more untamed than usual, all knots and frizz, no curl. He looks sick and supposes he is.

He’s lying in his hospital bed now, sketching away since that’s all he has to do. He’s not allowed to watch the television mounted on the wall, the doctors saying it isn’t healthy for him in his state. That afternoon his sister and mother bring him two bags of clothes. Soon the police will have to bring him to Claymoore Behavioral Health Center. Apparently it’s protocol that the police escort him. _Protocol_. _What does that even mean?_

Harry’s discharge from the hospital is drowned in tears, mostly from his mother.

“We’ll visit as much as we can, expect a phone call every day. I love you, Harry.”

Those are the last words Anne says before Harry is led out of the hospital, bags in hand. It’s only one police officer this time, a different more stoic man from the previous two. When they get outside, Harry takes a moment to feel the sun on his face. He breathes in the fresh air, lets it all wash over him.

“Come on, they’re expecting you,” Sir Stoic says in a gruff voice.

 

The drive is long and scenic, surrounded by trees. Harry has never been in the back of a police car. The seat is plastic, bare of everything besides desperate scratches. He wonders what landed all these other people back here. Did they try to off themselves too? Were they a thief? A murderer? Harry is fairly certain he’s disassociating by the time they arrive to Claymoore. It’s much bigger than he expected it to be, more like a castle than a hospital. They pull through the gates and park at what must be the main entrance. Stoic gets out, opens the door for Harry and leads him inside. The officer and hospital staff exchange a few words but Harry isn’t listening. When Stoic leaves, Harry feels alone and wishes for the millionth time that he was home. There’s a woman in a business like outfit standing in front of him with a tight lipped smile. She says something but Harry doesn’t hear it, he isn’t even there. A man in a nurse uniform comes by and takes his bags saying something about searching them for contraband.  Then the woman in front of him takes him inside an office and hands him paperwork.

“This is all just basic information. Sign here, it’ll check you in.” She makes it sound like he’s coming to stay at a nice hotel. Her voice is calm but nothing compared to Nurse Lauren.

“Shouldn’t my mum be here for this? A legal guardian?” Harry says looking down at the long contract, feeling trapped.

“Mr. Styles, you’re 18. You’re checking yourself in, no one is making you do anything but you,” she says. Harry decides he doesn’t like her very much and flips page after page, signing fast just to get out of this room.

When it’s all over, Harry gets his bags back and the woman leads him upstairs and down hallways.

“You’ll be in the men’s ward, it’s run by Ms. Valerie,” she explains.

At the top of the three flights of stairs she turns to the right, unlocks a door and holds it open for Harry. It has a strong hospital smell and Harry considers running back downstairs, thinking about how far he could get on foot through the woods surrounding the building. The hallway is wide, open doors on every side. They start walking and Harry glances inside some of the doors as he passes. There’s young boys in them, boys like him, some sleeping, drawing, reading. At the end of the hallway there’s a living room like area with two couches and a table surrounded by chairs. To the right, the hallway continues down where Harry sees even more bedrooms. There’s boys gathered around the couch, some young, some a bit older and they all turn when they hear Harry and the woman approach.

“Hi! Hello!” a blond boy shouts from the couch. The boy next to him cringes and quickly curls up, covering his ears and locking his head between his knees. “Sorry, Liam..” blond boy whispers. Harry gives him a small smile and nods slightly.

“Harry, come here please,” he hears behind him. He turns around and observes a small office like area that’s boxed away behind a counter. Harry notices a few nurses behind it when he walks over.

“Hi, Harry, I’m Ms. Valerie, I’m the head of this ward. This is the nurses’ station, come here if you need help with anything, if you have any questions. This is where you’ll be getting your meds too but we can talk about that later. I’ll show you to your room, follow me,” Ms. Valerie says, coming out from behind the counter.

Harry is a bit taller than her; she’s an older woman with dark skin and warm eyes. The woman that led Harry up here leaves without a word. Harry follows Ms. Valerie down the hallway to the left of the living room nearly all the way to the end to room 214. The door is open when he reaches it.

“I’ll let you get settled in and meet your roommate. His name is Zayn,” Valerie says with a smile before walking away.

Harry takes a tentative step inside. Zayn is laying on his back staring up at the ceiling. He seems intimidating, a seemingly permanent angry thundercloud above him. Harry makes his way to the free twin bed on the right side of the small room and sets his bags down.

“What are you in for?”

Harry jumps, “Um..sorry?”

“What are you in for?” Zayn repeats, not moving.

“I…I tried to commit suicide,” Harry nearly whispers. He’s decided he hates talking about it. Talking about anything makes it real. Zayn just hums in response.

“You have a name?”

“Harry.”

“Zayn.”

Harry sits down on his bed and takes a good look around the room. It’s littered in drawings, from beautiful depictions of people to creative cartoons and unsettling scribbles.

“Did you draw these?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I did, so?” Zayn snaps defensively.

“Nothing, you’re very talented,” Harry says genuinely.

“Oh….thanks.”

Harry puts his bags on the floor and curls up on the stiff bed. He’s considering a nap when he hears yelling from outside. Harry sits up and peaks through the curtain covering the window. There’s a young man being dragged by angry police men, gripping the man tight by the arms. He’s handcuffed, yelling and laughing while being shoved towards the building. Harry disregards the scene.

Ten minutes later, the same voice is echoing down the hall. Suddenly Zayn bolts upright in his bed.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he says. He stands up and looks out into the hallway, Harry following behind him. The man from outside is now at the nurses’ station at the end of the hallway being held onto by staff. They removed the handcuffs and Harry finds himself wishing they hadn’t.

“Hello boys, daddy’s home! You fucks miss me?” he shouts. Some of the patients in the living room laugh and greet him while others cower. Harry feels like cowering too when the man turns around and makes eye contact with him.

“Who the fuck is that? Zayn, who is that?” he screams. Zayn slams the door hard and Harry backs away.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Louis!” Zayn yells. Through the door, they hear more yelling coupled by the sound of running and then there’s banging on the door before it swings open.

“Louis, get out!” yells Zayn.

“Where’s Oli, Zayn? Where the fuck is Oli? Who the fuck is this and why is _his_ shit on _Oli’s_ bed?” Louis screams getting closer to Harry.

Harry backs himself into the wall but Louis keeps coming closer until he’s inches from his face.

“Where is he? Why are you in his room?”

Harry has tears in his eyes at this point, stuttering about how he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. In the back round, Zayn is still yelling for Louis to get out and now Harry can hear other patients shouting too. Nurses pile in, grabbing Louis by his denim jacket clad arms and dragging him out.

“How did he do it, huh? How, Zayn? Tell me! Tell me, God damn it!” Louis says frantically kicking his legs.

Harry watches him get taken down the hallway before he hears more screaming.

“No! Don’t, get the fuck off me!”

Then it gets quiet as the nurses calm the other boys down.

“What the hell just happened?” Harry asks, still against the wall. His hands are shaking and he’s blinking back tears.

Zayn sits down on his bed, sighing and saying, “That’s Louis. He ran away about a month ago. His best friend used to room with me and with Louis gone, he couldn’t handle it. He hung himself with a volleyball net a week after Louis left.”

Harry’s heart is fills with remorse. He takes a seat on his bed, pulls his journal out of his bag and sketches a drawing of a wild haired boy with ice cold blue eyes before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you or someone you know are thinking of attempting suicide please contact someone immediately. You are not alone.


End file.
